


Hike

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Blind Character, Blind Dean, First Dates, Human Castiel, Implied Phone Sex, M/M, Physical Disability, Series Spoilers, Shy Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's injury leaves him unable to hunt, and he and Sam have retired to a cabin in Lawrence to work the hub for the hunter network. Sam has taken a job as a bartender, and Dean...well, Dean works from home. Which is how he meets Castiel, the shy former military officer who is bored one night and wants someone to talk to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Visuals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Numbers exchanged.

The whole point was to keep them on the line. It didn't really matter how. Whatever the guy was up for-and let's be honest, it was almost always a guy; Dean had only spoken to two chicks the whole time he had been at this-that was what he was up for too. The trick was to not get the guy off too quickly. But if he didn't go fast enough, they hung up. There was a sweet spot in the middle where the guy wanted to hear what happened next.

A lot of it was pretty raunchy. And he had the option of disconnecting the call if a guy got to be too much, but he could pretty much play along with anything. If he liked the guy, or if he was at least lucrative in that he stayed on the line a long time, Dean gave his call number so the guy could dial his extension directly. He had some regulars who liked his voice. Most of them were actually pretty nice. The ones who just wanted to get off as quickly as possible, he wasn't even sure why they bothered. There was porn for that. Other men were looking for interaction. Play. Those were the ones that were fun for both of them.

There were a lot of closeted guys out there, many in a heterosexual relationship, who called because they could not find their way to what they wanted out in the real world, and Dean let them pretend for a while. Or perhaps they were in love with their wives, but needed something extra occasionally. Dean didn't pretend to know anything about love or romance. His own relationships had never lasted more than a month or two, and most were far shorter than that. Especially the last few years.

Sometimes a guy would call for advice about what to do for their boyfriends or even girlfriends. Dean would talk them through a plan to spice things up, but he always encouraged them to actually talk to their partners. There was no substitute for that.

Every once in a while, there was just a guy who was lonely and wanted an anonymous conversation with a guy pretending to like him. Some were just bored and had seen the phone number in a skin rag. Others were terrified of or horrible at actual human interaction. Those were a bit sad, and Dean did not tend to give them his code, unless they knew to ask for it. But occasionally there was a guy who was interesting and funny, and just shy enough to want to talk to someone he didn't have to be face to face with.

He was pretty sure that's what this guy's deal was.

When a guy dialed the phone number with no specific extension, the system pushed the call out to the next available worker logged in on their landline. Before saying hello, the worker heard a quick three or four word prompt to indicate which ad the phone number had come from, like "Dom in mild bdsm." Then Dean would take on the persona of the prompt when he introduced himself. It was a bit like acting.

When he got this call, the prompt was his favorite: "Pillow talk." That generally meant it could go anywhere, but would probably stay in the realm of fun and not venture into freaky or creepy. It also meant the guy wanted talk, not just a quickie. Time was money, and Dean wasn't cheap.

"Hey. I'm Michael," he said in his soft, husky voice. Michael was the voice he used for lighter prompts, or for ones he wasn't sure what to expect.

"Is that your real name?"

Dean's eyes widened, and he sucked in his breath. "Oh wow. That's an amazing voice."

"You don't have to tell me your real name. But if it isn't...is there another that you use? Michael is my brother's name."

Dean chuckled. "Okay. I get that. Let's use my middle name then. Dean."

"Michael Dean. Is that an actor?"

"I...I don't-"

"Okay, Dean."

He laughed. It was very rare he used his real name, but enjoyed the irony of this guy thinking it was just another alias. "So I've given you two names. Can I get one?"

"Castiel."

Dean grinned. "Castiel, you have an incredible voice. Did you call me just to show it off?"

"Um...no. I just..."

He found this guy's stuttering adorable, considering the fuckable sex voice he was using. "I'm glad you're calling. I was starting to get a little lonely." The line never failed to bring out the man's true intentions.

"Me too," he sighed. "Is it okay if we..." The guy sounded more nervous than turned on.

"It's absolutely okay," he assured him quickly. "Just tell me what you're thinking about."

There was a pause, and Dean was afraid he was going to lose him. But then Castiel cleared his throat. "I really just want to talk."

He smiled and settled himself onto his bed. This was going to be an easy one. "No problem! I'd love to get to know you better."

"No you wouldn't," he sighed. "But thank you for saying so."

A smirk came over his face. "Hey, man. Relax, okay? If you second guess every word, we can't trust one another. And I want you to trust me. Okay?"

"I guess there isn't much point in not trusting you."

"Wow. You are cynical." Dean lay on his pillow. His eyes were closed.

"Am I? I'm sorry. I just...It's hard to talk to people you're not paying to listen, and then it's hard to talk to people you are paying to listen, because you know they wouldn't be if you weren't."

His smile was sad. This poor guy was an adorable mess. "I can tell you two reasons I would be listening if I knew you out there. One, you're obviously smart, and I like that. Two, I could listen to that voice all day."

Finally, he got a shy laugh from Castiel.

"Do you always go by Castiel? Do you ever go by Cas?"

"Sometimes. When people can't say it right. Or make fun of it."

"Make fun of it! I think it's great. But Cas is a bit more intimate."

"I guess so."

"Can you tell me more about you?"

"You don't know everything you need to know by the fact that I'm calling a 900 line from a queer-friendly businesses magazine at two in the morning?"

Dean tried not to snicker. Not even a skin rag. This poor guy! "No way," he argued. "Everybody's got a different reason to do that. Lots of guys are looking for a hookup, lots of them are looking for advice, and some of them just want to chat. It's no big deal. And it doesn't tell me anything about you at all." He pressed the button on his clock beside his bed and heard quiet confirmation that it was just after one. So Castiel was in a different time zone, somewhere east of him.

"Well, I'm a security guard. It's boring."

"Are you at work now?" Dean hated that. It usually meant an abrupt drop of the call at any moment.

"No. But I work four twelve hour shifts a week, all at night, so I'm always awake at night."

He relaxed. "I'm glad you're spending tonight with me. I'm a bit of a night owl myself."

"I don't know why I called."

A frown crept into his face. He was losing him. "Why don't you tell me more about you. Maybe what you like?"

"I don't...I don't know. I guess I'm supposed to tell you what I look like? And you tell me?"

"If you like. I'm about six one, 175, and-"

"No."

He stopped. If that wasn't the guy's type, he could-

"I'm sorry. That was rude. I didn't mean to...I just mean I don't want to do that. Is that okay? Visuals aren't...I mean...I'd rather hear something you do. Something you like, I mean. Not..."

"Okay, okay. It's all right," he soothed as the guy's deep voice tumbled into a panic. "Listen. Visuals aren't a big deal for me either. Not at all, in fact. Let's see. I like the mountains."

He could practically hear the man's tension fade. "Yeah? Like hiking?"

"Exactly. I like hearing the birds, feeling the leaves under my feet. I like the breeze. I especially like it when it's just a touch too cold, and your cheeks and nose get burned up in the wind, and you head back to camp for coffee."

Castiel sighed, and this time, it was a happy sound. "I know exactly what that's like. I...I used to be in the military, and I trained kids out in the field. Survival training. And I still take my gear out to hike once in a while. It's hard to give up the life when it's all you've known."

Dean felt himself smiling. He liked this guy. "I know what you mean. I used to...well, I used to have a different life. Takes a lot of adjustment when things change suddenly."

"It's not easy," Castiel agreed softly. "But it's nice sometimes to be out in the wild again, without having to score students, just hiking on my own." He laughed. "It's nice to enjoy the quiet instead of shouting at idiot recruits that they would be dead without me, not to eat that, and no, they can't have a break. My boys would never believe I just like to fish and walk and sleep under the stars in peace. When I hike on my own, it's just about the exercise and the local geology, the trees and the air."

"I wish I could hike with you sometime." It fell out of his mouth before he could stop it.

But Castiel's voice was wistful, not pushy. "It would be...agreeable to have a good, experienced companion on hikes. I've never had the nerve to ask anyone to join me." He laughed again. "If my boys could hear me say that! Captain Arch doesn't have the guts to talk to civilians now that he is one. God, I've become..."

"Human," Dean supplied gently. "You've become human, Captain. It wasn't acceptable for you to be afraid before. But now you can be. There's nothing wrong with that. You just aren't putting on that mask anymore. I know that mask. It's comfortable. But it isn't real."

Castiel was quiet for a moment, but Dean did not worry this time. "I think you do understand. I've never had to be anything but an officer. It's all I ever planned to be. Don't even know if it's what I wanted. It's just what everyone in my family has ever done. I had family in every war, in every conflict or scuffle we've been in since before we were a nation. I never even thought about anything else. Being a survivalist trainer instead of a deployed commander was as rebellious as I got. And I did my tours before I even did that, so I...But now? I'm head of security, and it's the most boring thing I've ever done."

"Tell me more about what you used to do," Dean whispered. Listening to this man was making strange thoughts run through his head. He had always been impulsive as a younger man, but now...now his heart was pounding at the idea that had just come into his head. "What exactly did you teach those recruits?"

"Basic survival. Maximum efficiency. Find water first sort of thing. Manual GPS."

Dean's breath was heavy, but he didn't think Castiel could hear it. "Listen, I'd like to keep talking with you. But in case we get interrupted, I want to give you my code, so you can call me directly."

Castiel seemed pleased. "You always do that?"

The breath was shallow. "Never. Not before now," he said, the truth screaming inside his head. Never, because it was a horrible idea!

"Oh," Castiel said quietly. "Good. I mean, yeah, let me write it down."

Calls were sometimes monitored. Dean really had no idea how often someone listened in. He swallowed hard. "Ready?"

"Go."

One syllable in that deep voice hit him hard in the stomach. He licked his lips, thinking back on some training he too had not used in a while. "Listen carefully. N3897W9524. Does that...sound like something you can work with?"

Castiel was silent.

Dean was beginning to sweat. What the hell was he thinking? What-

"You've never given your direct code before, huh?" There was a wonderful mixture of fear and amusement in Castiel's voice.

"Never gave my middle name to any guy before either," he said pointedly.

"Hm."

Dean tried to take a deep breath. "You know, Cas, you've inspired me. I think I might go hiking soon. When do you think I should go?"

Castiel was quiet again.

He forced a laugh. "Maybe I'm better off inside. Weather might be cloudier than I thought."

"No," Castiel said quickly. "You said you didn't mind it a little cool."

"No," he murmured. "No, as long as it warms up eventually."

"Then maybe you should go for your hike on Saturday night. Is that...too soon to get ready?"

A chuckle fell from his mouth. "Cas, when I make the decision to go hiking, I can be ready at the drop of a hat."

"Seven is the best time to start a hike, but you're a night owl like me. So you should maybe do an afternoon hike?"

"I think so too. Maybe around two. At the state park."

"That sounds fun."

Dean licked his lips again. Castiel's voice was getting even deeper. It was the most erotic voice he had ever heard.

"I think I should go now."

"Wait! Um..."

Castiel listened. "Is there something I should ask?"

Dean thought it was the strangest way to phrase that, and yet exactly the correct way at the same time. "Is there anything you'd like to know?"

"Yes."

Dean held his breath.

"What else do you never tell anyone who calls you?"

There it was. There was the opening. He cringed, then let the words flow from him. "Visuals are not important to me. At all," he said again.

"Oh," he whispered. "Does that change the way you hike?"

"It makes company far more important."

"Then you should have a knowledgeable companion, who can appreciate the sounds of the birds and the leaves under his feet, just as you do."

His heart leapt into his throat, pounding wildly, nearly choking him. "Yes," he breathed. "That's exactly what I want."

"I hope someone comes along on your hike in the state park at two on Saturday."

"So do I. I really do."

"Good night, Dean."

"Good night, Castiel."

There was a moment of nothing before the click that alerted him that the man had hung up. He logged out immediately by voice command, and tore off his headset.

After two minutes spent in stunned silence, Dean lifted himself and went to his door to fling it open. "Sam!" he shouted. "Sammy!"

***

"This is the stupidest thing you've ever done. And we have had a long and glorious tradition of doing stupid things."

Dean gave Sam a growl. "Shut up. I don't get to be a little crazy once in a while?"

"I didn't say crazy. I said stupid."

He sighed. "What time is it?"

"About ten to two." Sam had moved to his other side, so he shifted a bit.

"Okay. And this is the only entrance?"

"Yes. I told you that a dozen times. What if he's an axe murderer?"

"You think I couldn't take out a human?"

Sam was sighing. "Dean, you aren't...Listen. You can't..."

"I'm not Daredevil, you jackass. I know I'm not what I used to be!"

He could hear Sam's smirk. He never would have thought he would miss seeing that. "You were never Daredevil," the brat pointed out.

"Damn straight. I was Batman. Point is, I get I'm not a hunter anymore. And I'm happy we're working the hub. I really am. Shit, nothing's tried to eat us or throw us into a wall in years. And we aren't retired. The hub and the research save lives, and now Bobby is gone and Garth's out of the game, we're the best anybody's got. The green-eyed guy on the headset and the bookworm in the library. We're great a team as we ever were. But, man, I gotta have a life! If I can't hunt, and I can't...Sam, I can't even drive."

It was the thing that never came up. Sam knew hunting and driving his Baby were the most important things in his life, outside his brother. Now his brother was all that remained of that old life. He had even gotten a job, answering phones for a 900 service, out of sheer boredom and to pay some bills. Now that they didn't move around, they couldn't rely on credit card fraud. And Sam's pool game was off the charts, but it wasn't as though Dean could play cards. So Sam worked afternoons and evenings at a bar, and Dean had fun with his phones in the middle of the night till early morning. That way, there was always someone available to answer the FBI phone, and all the others, for the network. Turned out Sam could make a mean drink and got slipped a cocktail napkin with a phone number on it most nights, and Dean had a great time getting guys off. Who knew?

His kid brother took hold of his arm then. "I know, man. I'm sorry."

"I'm never going to be any of that again. It's been years since I felt...anything. You know? And when I gave that guy the coordinates to Lawrence, it felt like I was alive for the first time since my last hunt. Like it was a little dangerous but exciting too. Jesus, Sam, don't make me spell it out! I'm lonely and bored, and so is he."

"Okay. No, I get it. I do. I just worry..." Sam stopped before Dean had to hit him. "Okay," he tried again. "How do we know he's going to know it's Clinton Park?"

"What else do we have nearby?"

"How do we know what he looks like?"

Dean waited.

"I mean...how will I know what to look for?"

"A guy who spent his life in the military. A guy who looks like he's looking for someone. Come on, Sam. Are you that rusty?"

Sam had learned to make his bitchfaces audible. It was an impressive talent, and so considerate. But the noise in his throat cut off sharply. "Wait. Maybe that's him. He's got out of state plates, and he looks a bit lost. Maybe like he's looking for someone?"

"Go bump into him. Let me know if he has a crazy deep sex voice."

"This is way above and beyond call of duty."

"Fly, wingman," Dean ordered.

While listening to Sam wander off, Dean's nerves became so out of control that he could feel his teeth chatter. What the hell was wrong with him? How had he become this person? He had cut the heads off fangs and shot werewolves point blank, and now he was starring in his own remake of Twilight?

His heart refused to stop pounding, and it felt like he was going to have another heart attack when Sam crept up on him. It was just his luck to be joined at the hip with a guy trained not to make noise unless he wanted to.

"It's him."

Dean sucked in his breath. "What, you're sure? How do you know for sure?"

"I said he looked a bit lost, and introduced myself."

"Dammit, Sammy! What name did you use?"

"I went nuts and called myself Sam. He called himself Cas, and said he was waiting for someone." He cleared his throat. "And, uh...yes to the sex voice."

Making Sam uncomfortable was one of Dean's greatest pleasures in life, so he felt his nerves calm a little as he laughed. "Hold on there, Tiger. I've already called dibs."

"Bite me, Dean."

He took a deep breath. "Okay. Anything I need to know?"

"Other than you're being an idiot? Yeah, eleven o'clock, and there's loose gravel before hitting the parking area. Stop when you hit it, and he will be able to see you from there. You'll hear him if he approaches. He's wearing hiking boots. Dean, are you sure he understood?" It was said softly, but with such concern that Dean couldn't help smiling.

"I think he did. He got the coordinates, didn't he? Anyway, if I'm wrong, if he freaks out or something, he's the one who has to drive back through time zones. I won't have lost anything."

Except his will to ever try connecting with another human ever again. He wouldn't lose anything he had ever had, that was certain. He just would not have gained anything, unless he counted the lump of pain that was growing in his chest just thinking about how many ways this could go very wrong.

Sam was unconvinced. "Okay. You got your knife?"

"Of course I've got my knife. You think I'm going to meet some guy naked?"

"Holy water?"

"I'm not an idiot. It's in my pack."

"And-"

"Sam, if you ask about silver, like I haven't been a hunter my whole freaking life, I will kick your ass right now. I didn't lose my instincts in that last hunt." Just his heart, soul, and every ounce of confidence and self-worth he had ever had, that's all. The instincts were still perfectly intact, in spite of having had no use for them in three years.

"I know, man. I'm sorry. I just...You've never done this before. And you couldn't have picked someplace indoors, where you didn't have to worry about the terrain?"

"If I'm going to do this, it needs to be clear I can take care of myself. And I can. I can't drive or hunt, but I can sure as hell do this. Slower than before, maybe," he forced out, trying to choke down emotion. "But I'm perfectly capable. I've been doing this long as I've been alive." He heard the words creeping up on him, and he let them out when it got too painful not to. "I just haven't done it since I've been dead, that's all."

Sam made a noise in his throat that made Dean want to punch him.

"Shut up, Sammy. Seriously. I've walked these woods a thousand times since that last hunt. I've never done a real hike, not without you, but I could do it in my sleep. Okay. Still eleven o'clock?"

"He hasn't moved," Sam said quietly.

"Good. Go. You can't follow us."

"But-"

"Sammy," he growled.

He heard him heave a sigh. "Fine. If he's a shifter or something, and he beats your ass, you deserve it."

"If he can, then I do. Go."

Dean listened to the huff, then heard Sam retreat sulkily. He smiled. Poor Sam was probably hoping for "a shifter or something." The longer they were off the job, the more paranoid his little brother got. Before long, Dean would have to convince him to go on a solo hunt, to take the edge off. Sam always claimed to be happy to be on the sidelines, but Dean knew it wore on him. The kid had recently admitted he had even worked a job or two near Stanford during his time there, because he couldn't stand not to. Dean had not been as surprised as Sam had expected him to be.

He took a breath, and started walking slowly toward the parking area. "Here goes everything," he murmured under his breath.

***

Castiel was about to give up. What had possessed him to jump in his truck and drive all this way on his three day weekend? Just because a guy who worked phones might have said something that sounded a lot like coordinates? He already owed a fortune for that call. Why would he spend the money to go to Kansas of all places for a hike?

He had spent most of the trip convincing himself that it was no big deal if he had been way off about the guy's intentions. He had never hiked in Kansas before. This park was nice. He would just enjoy his own company the way he always did.

Of course, he could have done that back home.

Just as he was berating himself and trying to decide if he should begin the hike alone, a figure emerged from the trees.

Castiel stopped breathing.

It was him.

He hadn't misunderstood. That was him.

Dean-or whatever his name really was-walked slowly, but with purpose. He had a small pack on his back, and Castiel was impressed with his choice of gear. The guy wasn't a rookie. The walking stick was doubling as a cane, and he was navigating the territory without any visible difficulty.

He took a few steps forward, then watched as Dean stopped at the edge of the parking area and cocked his head as he obviously listened.

Unlike Castiel, Dean seemed to have no nervous energy tearing him up inside. There was nothing but alert calm on the man's face.

And what a face. Castiel's stomach was a mess. This guy was not the homely, unattractive guy with a great voice that he had prepared himself for. When he had said visuals were unimportant, he had meant it. But the sight of this man made him rethink his priorities. Visuals were suddenly far more important than they had ever been.

The guy was hot.

Castiel struggled to breathe normally. He cleared his throat and saw Dean's eyebrow rise in interest. He forced his feet to move toward him. Driving all those miles was nothing. Crossing the last few meters was nearly painful.

"Dean? I, uh...I'm Castiel. Cas, I mean." Dean had liked calling him Cas.

He smiled then, and he thought he might have seen a flash of anxiety cross his face, but it was absorbed entirely by that incredible smile. "Hey, Cas. You came."

"Crazy, right?"

"A little bit. But no crazier than me inviting you."

"You, uh...So, um..."

Dean licked his lips, and Castiel sighed. He had never caught himself wanting to lick a man's lips before, but it suddenly seemed like something he would really enjoy doing with Dean.

It wasn't as though he had never had relationships. But he was so fatally shy that he had not dated anyone in a very, very long time, and when he was in the military, that was a no go anyway. In fact, how long had it been since he had tasted another man's mouth? And, God help him, he wanted that one.

"You're staring," Dean accused with an expression of amusement.

Castiel stumbled backward. His face was burning red. "I-I don't mean to...You could tell?"

"I can tell."

"You're just..." He had never learned how to speak without being blunt. "You're far better looking than I expected."

Dean burst into laughter then, and it was literally the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen. "Does my voice sound like it comes from a really ugly guy?"

The burning in his face had reached his ears. "No, of course not! I-I don't know why I expected...I'm sorry. I must sound like an idiot."

"Not with that voice," Dean murmured.

Castiel bit his lip while staring at Dean's. He may as well stare, since he had been caught already. "I don't...know what to do now," he admitted shyly.

But Dean had enough confidence for both of them. "Well, I'm going to hike the trail. Would you like to join me?"

"Yes, of course!"

The other man's voice softened then. "Used to be I didn't bother with the trail, and I know you don't need it. But it's best for me to stick to the trail these days. It's a good, hard hike, but it isn't so strenuous that we can't talk and get to know one another. And you said you like to check out local geology. This takes us through some interesting places. Anyway, I hope you don't mind."

"I love trail hikes," he said breathlessly. "Just because I know how to survive on nothing but moss, that doesn't mean that's my preferred way to relax."

Dean's gorgeous green eyes lit up again, and Castiel thought the smile might knock him over. "I guess that's true."

Castiel watched him push his hiking stick to where the trail was cut into the vegetation. Then, with confidence, he turned and began to walk, as though he knew Castiel would follow.

And he did, but he spoke up quickly before losing his nerve. "Is your name really Dean? Or Michael? Or...?"

The man chuckled softly. "Yeah. It's Dean. I've never used my real name before. Dean Winchester."

"Castiel Arch."

Dean nodded at him. "Captain," he teased.

Castiel got the feeling he would be blushing all day long.


	2. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is okay with sacrificing for Castiel. It's no big deal, if he gets what he really wants in the end.

It was after Dean's first flight as a blind man that Castiel made his decision. It was not as though he had not considered it. But it was too soon, or so he thought.

He and Dean had spent two incredible nights together in an old cabin near the one Dean said he shared with his brother. Castiel had been nervous the entire afternoon, and the hike had taken more concentration than he knew Dean wanted to admit to, so the real talking took place later. But even the small things they shared along the way were...easy. That was what this was. Easy. And at a glance, it really shouldn't have been. They were two lonely loners, capable but vulnerable in a thousand ways, strangers who were both more than a little impulsive, more than a little starved for adventure. Right away, silences were comfortable, banter was enjoyable, and interest was obvious. They had wandered the trail for a few hours, stopping for Castiel to take note of things along the way. When he had looked up from identifying a particular plant he was unfamiliar with, he noticed Dean was smiling.

"What's funny?" he asked shyly.

"Nothing. You're a cute nerd, you know that?"

Castiel knew Dean could not see the blush, but he felt certain it was in his voice. "Thank you?"

"You are to nature what my kid brother is to computers and research. He's also got a thing about plants, like you. Could tell you the Latin for half the stuff out here. You two should geek out sometime."

But a half hour later, Dean was telling him a story about a hunting trip he had gone on with his uncle Bobby, who taught him everything he knew about tracking, and Castiel smirked to himself as he heard that Dean knew quite a bit about the land himself. Latin or no Latin, the man was smart, and knowledgeable.

Dean had explained that there were two cabins in these woods that he and his brother kept. One for them, and another for hunter friends who needed a place to stay while in town. It was just one large room and a bathroom, but it had a small kitchen attached. And two beds, he had added after a pause.

Castiel didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed about that. Maybe both.

It had not mattered in the end. They had been exhausted after the hike. Castiel had driven all morning, then fretted all day. Dean gave little away, but Castiel knew he had to be tired too. So they enjoyed the night air together, shared beers and burgers, and just listened to the world fall asleep around them from where they sat on chairs outside the cabin. He was so strangely content with this stranger that he did not feel the need to fill the quiet with talk, and neither did Dean.

"It's been a long time since I enjoyed a day so much, or an evening," he admitted quietly at last.

"Me too." And it sounded sincere. This man, considering what he did as his means of income, was far more down to earth than he had expected. "I guess we should call it a night, though. Should I...call my brother?"

It was out of his mouth before he could catch it between his teeth. "Please don't. Stay." He cringed at his own voice. "I mean...it would be really nice if you stayed."

Dean was smiling. "Yeah," he confirmed in a teasing tone. "It will be."

Then it was like Castiel was the one who could not see, because the man had moved faster than he could think, and hungry lips were on his. He gasped Dean's breath, and let out a frightened whimper which would have been embarrassing had he heard it himself. He was kissing back now, his long fingers gently touching Dean's neck, a thumb drifting down to touch the cool sweat humidity had left on his beautiful throat. Dean's own hands were busy too, and he could feel one find its way under his layers, under his tee. When Dean's fingers danced across his stomach, an odd, needy moan escaped Castiel's lips.

That was all it took for Dean.

It was amazing how this freckled miracle could undress him, lead him to a bed inside the cabin and never lose contact between their mouths all at the same time, especially with no vision. Instinct and experience were obviously at work here.

There were a few things Castiel had true natural talent for. He was a leader when he needed to be, but he really excelled at teaching. He was a brilliant fighter and a strong strategist. And when it came to sex, sheer desire and passion ruled him. Dean was clearly the more experienced of the two, but Castiel had a way of employing his whole being into the act which had left each of his few lovers completely blown apart and utterly sated. Dean was athletic, creative and confident. Castiel's eyes and hands and mouth and flesh reacted to every movement, every sound, with shameless abandon. He held nothing back, gave everything in every kiss and slide of skin. Every moment was grateful worship.

When the night had broken out in a burst of stars behind Castiel's eyes, and he and Dean were left catching their breath together, he felt as though the world had ended and begun anew somehow.

It was the beginning of something better.

They had talked the next day, all day, except for time spent exploring one another's bodies. Dean was sensitive to every gasp, laugh and shy whisper from Castiel. At one point, after another round of lovemaking following a late breakfast, Castiel caught himself closing his eyes in order to experience the cabin as Dean did. He could not remember being so happy and so at ease in his life as he did with this man he had just met.

It had been painful to separate after two sweet days of lying in one another's arms and exchanging stories of fishing, hunting and hiking, questioning one another's core beliefs and silly, guilty favorites.

He had barely driven out of sight of the cabin before he was calculating how long it would be before he could return to this place.

They had spoken on the phone, with Dean's real number, every night, and twice on Thursday for a week, and then Castiel was in his truck again, pulled like a magnet across state lines. Nearly seven hours of driving each way for two nights of blissful comfort was taking its toll after five weekends in a row. Dean had offered to fly into Evansville Regional, and he had happily agreed.

But now he could see Dean's face, and it was clear what a sacrifice it had been. The man had neglected to mention he was terrified to fly. Castiel took one look at the gray face and decided to find work in Kansas.

***

Dean gave Castiel a shaky grin as he heard him call his name. The entire trip, he had wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He had driven everywhere his entire life for a reason. But just hearing Castiel's voice greeting him without its usual road weariness was enough to make him glad he made the effort.

The plane had been awful. He had not realized just how much worse it would be to feel and hear every horrible movement but not be able to see anything. A flight attendant had ended up sitting in the vacant seat beside him and talking him through it. Flirting with her had helped. When she had left to take care of something for five minutes, he hummed Metallica and gripped the arm rests so hard he was afraid they might actually come off. She had touched his hand gently upon returning, and he had almost punched her. It was probably just as well they had disarmed him before boarding.

But now he could hear Castiel's excited voice, and he dropped the arm of his escort in anticipation. They had allowed Castiel to meet him right off the taxi, and it was a relief to hear that he was there. He had only flown with Sam before, and it was the sign of a devoted kid brother that he had offered to make this trip with him to "make fun of you being a pansy the whole way." But Dean had declined. It would all be all right if he could just get to Castiel's voice.

And there he was, scooping him up into strong arms. He heard the escort giggle beside him, but he ignored her until finally she spoke. "Mr. Winchester, would you like me to-"

"No," he rasped quickly. "Thanks. I'm good. I'm awesome." He didn't care what she was offering. It wasn't what he needed right now.

Castiel's voice was coming from a smile. "Rough trip?" he guessed.

Were there plane trips that were not rough? Admittedly some were worse than others. Demon turbulence was probably worse than the usual kind. "No problem. Talked to a hot flight attendant the whole way."

Castiel cleared his throat, amused.

"You want to know how I know she's hot."

"I'm curious."

"I asked her," Dean teased. "Seemed like an honest sort of girl. And you can hear it too. In the voice."

"Oh yeah?" Castiel snuggled into him and lead Dean to the exit, since all he had was a carry on.

"Yeah. Like you. I knew you were hot the first sentence."

He could feel the man chuckling, but the tone was dry. "You just have a thing for deep voices."

"That's not a deep voice. That's a sex voice. Even my very straight brother said so. And anyway," he corrected, "I generally go for voices a lot more like hers."

Castiel straightened suddenly. "Wait. Really?"

"Yeah."

He took a deep breath. "I-I didn't realize..."

"Why would you? I don't wear a sign," he laughed.

"You flirt with everything that comes near you. I guess I just thought it was a game."

Dean shrugged. "It is. It's fun to make someone want you. But I really do go for women most of the time."

"Are we talking just over half?" he murmured.

Dean squeezed his arm. "Maybe ninety percent into chicks."

Castiel stopped walking and turned to face him. Dean could tell they were near the exit, and wished they would just leave. "Seriously? Ninety percent? Dean, what's left, that's practically margin of error!"

He snorted. "Shut up. It's not a scientific number! Can we keep walking?"

"How the hell did you end up doing...what you do?"

Dean tugged on Castiel's arm. "In the truck?" he suggested. So Castiel had let it drop until they were seated beside one another, and were on the road. "Okay. The phone thing. It isn't like I've been doing it long. It's not a career, dumbass. It's extra cash. And anyway, what the hell else am I supposed to do? I live in nowhere Kansas, and all I’ve ever done is hunt and fix up cars. They took away my pilot’s license, you know.”

Castiel snickered.

“And it's fun. I mean, come on. I facilitate orgasms for a living. I’ve done it since I was a teenager, but now I get paid for it. The fact that it’s a guy on the other end doesn’t matter. I obviously didn’t have any issues with that when it came to you. So what are you worried about?”

The truck’s turn signal was clicking. Without even meaning to, Dean was memorizing his way. John had trained them to do it anytime someone other than a Winchester was in the driver’s seat. Old habits died hard.

“Cas?”

“It’s a little bit hard to think about someone as smart as you doing that.”

“Dude, it’s how we met.”

He cleared his throat. “I know. Of course I know. But I’ve started paying attention since then, and I know what kinds of magazines those ads are in now.”

Dean burst into laughter. “What? You didn’t realize my number is in porn?”

The body next to his on the bench stiffened uncomfortably.

Realization hit him then, and he reached out to find Castiel’s arm with his hand. “Cas, does it bother you? Now that we’re…” What was the word for what they were? Dating? He had never actually dated anyone, not really. He had relationships, but dating was something…foreign. “Together,” he finished quietly.

“Yes. But I have no right to say so.”

“Cas, that’s not me, okay? It’s a role I play. It’s just for fun and a paycheck. It’s just like acting. And I’m not bad at it.”

“I know,” he responded softly.

Dean sighed and removed his hand. He had not been on land a half hour before it was beginning to look like they were about to have their first fight.

The hunter had mellowed with his injury. It had knocked the wind out of him, cut him down to size in a way he couldn’t explain to anyone other than Sam, and refused to do even that. He knew Sam understood. It drove him crazy how clear it was that Sam understood. He was the big brother, a legendary hunter, son of John fucking Winchester, and monsters feared him. Now he lived with a constant tingle of terror that something he should be hunting was watching him. Some things he could smell. Cold spots were obvious. Hisses or growls would give it away. But some monsters, some humans, were silent, odorless, and deadly. Feeling helpless filled him with such indescribable, stinging dread, that it was all he could do to leave the cabin some days. If he knew what was coming, he could deal with it. The idea of something creeping up on him, the idea of not being able to protect himself or Sam, it made him mad with fear.

He wished he didn’t know what was out there.

“Look, man. It was never going to be something I did forever. In fact, by the time we met, I was already looking into some other things.” Mostly dead ends. But he had a few ideas. Hunters would pay for spell components and holy water, and so would others. He knew many hunters who had retired after injuries and become suppliers. He and Sam, if they worked together, could create something of a business out of it. Bobby’s old buddy Rudy had brought it up not so long ago, when he had come to their cabin to lick his wounds after a brawl with a revenant. He had promised that if they worked something out, he would see that every hunter in the network came to them for whatever they needed.

Castiel’s truck slowed to a stop after several turns and a long silence. Before Dean could open his door, the man was on him, kissing his mouth as if it would be the last time they would ever touch.

Dean smiled through the kiss. He knew Castiel was trying not to let his insecurities hurt their relationship. But it was true that Dean had been looking into other work, and it would not be a big deal to give up the night phones. It had lost its attraction since he had met Castiel anyway.

It was not as though he were giving up a career he had worked hard for. The whole thing had begun as a joke, between him and Sam, and he had registered for a company just to weird out his brother, mostly. They had found a huge coffee can stuffed full of hundred dollar bills in one of Bobby’s storage units, and another under a loose floorboard while clearing out Rufus’s cabin. It wasn’t clear whether they were both Bobby’s or if the two men had just thought that much alike. Either way, they considered themselves the next of kin and had been living off the cash for a long time. Sam usually made back what they spent on the few supplies they needed hustling local kids at the bar on his off days anyway.

So they weren’t hurting for money. Dean was hurting for work. That was not the same thing. And he had not worked the same job two weeks in a row his whole life, so this thing was wearing thin anyway. The only job he had ever loved was hunting. Second to that, he thought maybe he could have worked on cars for a living, and if he absolutely had to, he could do something requiring him to drive. Now none of those were options. He couldn’t even gamble without being able to read people’s faces.

When the kiss separated with one last peck, as if Castiel were hesitant to let him go, Dean put his hand on his cheek. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he lied. “I quit last night.”

The relief poured off of Castiel in waves, and he was glad he had said it. It wasn’t true, but he would make it true as soon as he returned home. He had logged off till Tuesday, giving him five days, and he simply would not log back in. “Thank you,” Castiel whispered. “I never would have asked you to do that. But I’m so glad you did.”

He treated him to a smile that had taken down beautiful men and women his whole life. “I think that earns me more than just a kiss, though, right? I mean-"

The rest of his words were lost as Castiel grabbed him bodily, pulled him across the truck bench and out the driver’s side door. He practically mauled him on his way into the house, reminding Dean of the delicious way they had ended up on the cabin bed their first night. Before he could figure out his surroundings, he was being tossed onto a soft surface, and the other man’s weight was on him.

“Don’t,” he hissed into Castiel’s ear, “don’t you ever think this isn’t what I want. Don’t ever think I don’t find this incredibly hot. It doesn’t matter how many women I’ve been with over the years, or even how many men.” His hands found their way under Castiel’s clothes, skimming across his skin in that way that made him shudder every single time. “I have never had anything as hot as you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Thank you!!
> 
> ~Posing


	3. No Angel of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know one another leads to realization and fate fulfilled.

Castiel did not laugh often, but he had noticed that when he did, Dean’s eyes sparkled happily. He was beginning to memorize the little expressions on the handsome face, the way the eyes darkened sometimes and were nearly blank others. He wore dark glasses while in sunlight or in public, but did not bother with them when they were alone and inside. This thing they were doing, it had been going on for five weeks, and Castiel had not fully formed his communication strategy, but he thought he may as well jump in.

“Dean?” he asked the night after he arrived on the plane. They had just made love, and he knew Dean was relaxed and happy, so he hesitated to bring up something which might disrupt that, but he also thought that might be the best time to talk in a light tone. “May I ask you something?”

Dean smiled in the dark. “Here it is.”

“What?”

“No, it’s all right. Go ahead.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it-"

“Go ahead.”

Castiel cleared his throat, and propped himself up on one elbow to watch his lover’s face for signs of stress. “You weren’t always blind. How did you lose your sight?”

He gave a sigh. “It was just an accident, man. A stupid accident that rookies make.”

“But what happened?”

Then Castiel saw something on Dean’s face he certainly did not like, which made him frown severely as the man talked. “It’s silly. It was a dumb, clumsy thing in the shop. Got my face burned by some chemicals. Face healed, eyes didn’t. End of story. Yes, it hurt, no, it doesn’t still hurt, and yes, it sucks.”

“Why are you doing that?”

Dean turned his head to listen intently. “What?”

“Why are you lying to me?”

The man coughed on an awkward laugh, even as his eyes were widening. “Dude, why would I lie about something like that? I was under a car, something fell on a shelf above me, spilled through the engine, and I-“

Castiel was sitting up now, inching off the bed. “Enough. That’s enough. If you didn’t want to tell me, that’s your business. I can respect that. But don’t lie to me.”

Dean’s lips parted and his chin dropped in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

That was all Castiel could take. He stood in anger, and began putting on his boxers and jeans. When he took a step toward the door, Dean’s hand grabbed his upper arm tightly. “Let me go,” he growled without looking back. He knew there was hurt in his voice, but he could not mask it.

“Cas, please. Wait.”

Castiel jerked his arm out of Dean’s strong grip and left the bedroom.

It took some time before Dean followed him, and he had begun some tea seeping in the kitchen. He stared down at the water darkening, trying to feel something other than hurt.

What had he expected? Just because he was falling head over heels for this jackass didn’t mean Dean felt the same way. He had thought when he had braved the plane trip…But so what? Dean was not one to allow fear to keep him from doing anything. He hiked blind, for god’s sake. Why should Castiel have taken it as a sign of something more when Dean had taken a plane to visit when he obviously despised flying? Castiel was falling in a way he had never experienced, was past too far gone, and he had seen what he wanted to see: Dean falling with him.

Instead, Dean was lying to him about something so crucial as how he had lost his sight. For that matter, he had never bothered even to admit to being afraid of flying. Why should Castiel expect Dean to care enough to tell him the truth about anything at all? The man had introduced himself as Michael! Castiel was obviously just a bit of fun to Dean. Why would he expose himself more than he already had?

“You want the real story?”

He raised his eyes, but could not bring himself to look behind him. It was not what he had expected to hear. He thought Dean would shout or laugh at him, continue to deny he had lied, or berate him for delving into his privacy. He expected to hear that he was not as important to Dean as Dean had become to him. “Yes,” he whispered. “Or I want you to say you don’t want to tell me. I just wish you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Dean was at his side now, reaching to find his hand. Castiel let himself be lead into an embrace, stiffly at first, then he melted into it with a weary surrender. It was too late not to fall in love with this man. He would just have to enjoy what he could and deal with a broken heart after the fact.

“Will you kiss me first?”

He frowned. There was an oddly sad tone in Dean’s voice now. An instinctive, cold sense of dread hit him, and he looked behind his lover to find that the backpack he had used as a carry on was packed and by the door. His breath caught in his throat. But even as his heart was shattering and shards were piercing his lungs, he reached for Dean’s lips with his own. If this was to be their last kiss, for reasons his brain could not yet process, he planned to use every piece of his dying heart to show Dean how sorry he was about that. One hand cupped the side of Dean’s face, half buried into his hair, and half feeling the rough shadow of beard forming on his cheek. The other hand held the back of his neck, gripping it possessively, wanting it always within reach. They both still smelled like sweat from their time in bed, and tears stung at his eyes when he realized it.

There was reluctance on both their parts to end the kiss; he was sure of that. He might be the only one who had fallen, but he was not the only one sorry for what this night was becoming. He took some comfort in that, even while he felt a tremor in his own hands as he dropped them back down to his sides.

Dean sighed sadly. “I guess we had to have our last one at some point, huh? Just didn’t think…Anyway, thank you. Before I tell you the truth, just…thank you.”

Castiel licked his lips to taste him again. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

The smile was bitter. “You know, I should have seen this coming. I have a really bad track record with lovers named Cas finding out the truth about who I am and what I do. What I did. You ever want a funny story, let me tell you about the first time I fell for a Cas.”

“The first time?” he breathed. He wanted badly to touch him again.

Now came the laugh that was not really a laugh at all. “Man, if you don’t think I fell for you the first afternoon we spent together, then again that first night, and every time we’ve spoken and touched since then? You’re an idiot.”

Castiel could hear the audible cringe coming from his own chest, and it sounded a lot like a whimper.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m old enough to know better, but I’ve gotten stupid. Okay, you want the story. Here goes. I was cursed by a witch when my brother and I weeded out her coven. Except this particular witch turned out to be not just a witch but a vengeful spirit of a witch. Worst kind, if you ask me. Just as disgusting and harder to kill.”

Of all the things in the entire world Castiel had expected to hear, this would not have even made the list. “What?”

“Yeah. So, my brother and me, we used to be what’s called-"

“Hunters.”

It was Dean’s turn to drop his jaw.

“You’re hunters. When you said you hunted, I thought you meant…hunting. Deer or whatever.”

Dean croaked, “That’s what you were meant to think. What…How do you know about…” His eyes widened, and he took a step back, and before Castiel knew it, there was a gun drawn. “What are you? I said what are you?”

Castiel took a deep breath, then let it out very slowly. “Dean, it’s all right.”

“What the fuck are you? Answer me now or I swear I will shoot and find out if you bleed!”

Castiel cringed. “I’m a hunter! Okay? I…Goddammit, I’m a fucking hunter.”

Dean swallowed hard and shuffled his step, but never let his gun drop from its deadly aim. “A hunter with black eyes? Didn’t react to silver, so I’m thinking demon. You riding some poor bastard?” He forced a laugh. “Gotta know, is that your voice or his? Because I got to hand it to you, you are one sexy black-eyed son of a bitch.”

“I’m not-"

“Crowley send you? He still asking about someplace he thinks is Hell-adjacent? Our buddy Anna helped us through the Apocalypse okay, but then took an angel blade to the back. Don’t mean we don’t have another angel on retainer, asshole. If Crowley’s making a move-"

“Enough!” Castiel shouted. “Dean, I’m not a demon! I’m not exactly sure how to prove that to you, but I’m not. I’m in the life too. Have been for years.” He sighed. “Look, I’ll tell you how I got in, and you tell me, and we’ll exchange stories, but I’m not a demon or a shifter or any other damn monster. If you shoot me, I die.”

“How’d you get in?” he demanded. Dean took a step back, but he did not lower his weapon.

He sighed. “Can I at least sit down? You can train a gun on me just as easily at the dining room table as you can here in the kitchen.”

There was a flicker of a smile on Dean’s face. “Fair,” he allowed.

They had danced around one another cautiously, until they were seated at the table, and Dean put his safety on and put his gun on its side, but did not take his fingertips from it. “Okay,” Castiel said. “Okay, so I’m gay.”

The hunter across from him burst into laughter. “Really?”

“Shut up. Yes. I’m gay. And I came out to my older brother when I was like fourteen or something.”

“Michael,” Dean remembered.

“Yeah. And he was shocked. Completely. He started rambling, in this unbelievable way, like, ‘How could you be gay? You’re not even meant to have a sexuality at all!’ And that didn’t make much sense to me. So he followed up my coming out with his.”

“He was gay too?”

“No. He was an angel.”

Dean jumped out of his chair, gun in hand. “Holy shit, Castiel! Your brother is freaking Michael? Michael, the fucking… _The_ Michael?”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what he was. Not human. That was clear. He tried to tell me that I was one too, that he had come for me when I fell from grace, and was reborn as a human.”

His mouth dropped. “You’re an angel? Fall from grace, you mean like Lucifer did? Or like Anna did when she helped us? But they knew they were angels. How can you not know?”

This was all far too confusing. “So you really have met angels?”

“Damn right I’ve met them. They’re nasty assholes, all of them. And your buddy Michael is the biggest one of them all. Except maybe Raphael. Raphael was less powerful but more of an asshole.”

“Raphael, yes, that’s what Michael said. He said there were rules, that I had broken them, and disobeyed, and yet I was meant to play some important role, and he had come down to retrieve me. He had thought I would come willingly, that I would trust him if he gave me memories to make me think I had grown up with him as a big brother, but then he started rambling about me being some kind of broken angel, that I could be killed but not lead. He said I was crucial to some plan. It frustrated him badly when he couldn’t make me believe him, kept touching my forehead and snapping his fingers, and even though I saw him do some pretty unbelievable things, nothing about me changed. I didn’t remember what he talked about. I didn’t remember ever being something else. Finally, he kind of snarled at me, and said Raphael was waiting to assemble the armies, and he would have to find someone else to peel the Righteous Man out of Hell. And then he was gone. A few weeks later, I heard some mumbled words in my head, like someone was talking to me while I was underwater, about the Righteous Man being saved, and that was it. Weird stuff just stopped, and I never saw him again.”

Dean lowered himself back to his chair with a thud. “It was supposed to be you?”

Castiel shrugged again. “I don’t know what he thought I was supposed to be. I think my guardian angel went haywire and tried to scramble my brain, and got pissed when it didn’t work, blamed someone called Naomi. But he had me believing in angels after that, and I went out to find more. It wasn’t long before I found out about demons and shifters and vampires and every other creepy crawly nasty in the world. I went into the military, just like every member of my family ever had, but I did it with a certain purpose in mind. Survival was everything. When they brought me stateside to do training out in Nevada, I worked nine months a year, and spent a month between every three hunting every evil thing I could find. Never saw another angel, but saved a lot of good people from a lot of bad shit.”

“But you’re out of the game now?”

He took a breath. “Got myself injured, same as you, and I’m taking what I see as a well-deserved sabbatical. Dean, I’m the perfect picture of PTSD. I just can’t go to any doctors because they’ll want me to talk, and you know I can’t. What do I say? An angel came to me when I was a kid and I’ve been scared of the dark ever since? The injury didn’t really happen during a survival training, it was during a brawl with a werewolf? That by itself is fraud against the United States Army. I’m getting disability.”

Dean burst into a round of laughter that finally pulled a smile from Castiel. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said finally, as he put away his gun. “That’s not how my life goes. But it seems like someone badly wanted us to get back to our destiny. You were meant to save me from Hell, Castiel. I’m what the angels called their Righteous Man. Anna did a damn good job, but it was supposed to be you. No wonder Michael was so pissed off all the time. His plan was already unravelling before we even got started.”

“You were…So it was real? All of it?” Castiel’s head was spinning, and, as sometimes happened, he felt a dizzy itch at the back of his mind, as if there was something he should remember but didn’t. “I had kind of convinced myself that if it wasn’t just an angel gone crazy, that maybe it was a demon or something trying to make _me_ crazy.”

“The likelihood of us meeting now…Cas, I’ve seen a lot of nightmares in my time, lived through a lot of wild crap. But the weirdest is this feeling that a God I never believed in as a kid is looking out for me somehow. Some days I think He just enjoys having me and my brother as toys to bat around. But I should have been dead so many times now…I was dead…And I’m not. And now you and I are together. We were supposed to meet before, and when our destinies got screwy along the way, something came along and threw us back on track. I’ve thought about it a hundred times, and I can’t tell you what possessed me to give you my coordinates that day. I’m glad I did. But I mean…what a stupid thing to do! And all I can think was that it felt right to do it. And you! Why the hell would you follow coordinates that some random dude on the phone gave you practically in code? You’re a hunter, man, and you’re alive, so you must be a good one. Didn’t that go against every instinct you had?”

Castiel was nodding. “Yeah. It really did. Except that it was the right thing to do.” He knew that with his whole being. The fact that he had fallen for Dean as soon as they had met was completely separate from his overwhelming certainty that he was doing the right thing by following those coordinates in the first place.

“Somebody was putting us back on track.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Dean cleared his throat. He reached across the table, and Castiel hurried to catch his hand. This produced a true smile on his lover’s lips, and it was beautiful even though it trembled. “You’re not going to like what I think.”

“What do you mean?”

Tears were sparkling in those green eyes now, and one slid down his face in defiance of his stubborn, sightless glare. “I think the universe, or God, or some benevolent archangel I never got to meet, or something else entirely, is telling us we’re done. That we’ve done our best all this time, and we don’t have to do it anymore. I think maybe this is our severance package. The gold watch.”

For a moment, Castiel felt ill. “No. It was an injury, not…Some time off. I’ll be back. Nobody ever leaves the life. Have you ever known anyone who got out?”

Dean laughed quietly. “Never,” he murmured. “You die bloody long before that. Hell, I’ve done that myself on a number of occasions. But, Cas? You think you’re just another hunter, and you’re not. I’m not. You’re a graceless angel, in a human vessel. I don’t know how that happened, and I don’t know if there’s any way to fix it. I’m the Righteous Man, the vessel of the archangel Michael. I’ve been to Hell, I’ve been to Heaven, and if the King of Hell’d had his way, I would have found myself in a place everybody but him thinks is imaginary, called Purgatory. Then a stupid witch with a grudge took hunting from me. This is the gold watch, Cas. You and me. The universe is giving you to me and me to you, the way it was always supposed to be. Because who can love a hunter but a hunter? I’ve built my whole life and belief system around the idea that destiny can be kicked in the ass. I don’t want to this time. I’m blind, I’m tired, and I’m falling in love with an angel with clipped wings. Screw free will. I think I’d like to give in to destiny for once.”

Castiel’s heart was filled to bursting. There were so many things they needed to talk about, so many things they needed to figure out. Perhaps this was a bad idea, the worst either of them had ever had.

But Castiel was up for an adventure, and he could tell Dean was, and some voice inside his head was telling him that whatever they decided to take on as a team, they were bound to kick it in the ass together. It sounded like the same voice he had heard twice before, once to tell him that the Righteous Man was saved, and another, just after his injury, when he thought he was about to die, when all hope looked lost, the voice had whispered to him inside his head that peace was promised to the wayward son of Heaven if he would gather the last of his strength to carry on.

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, felt his smile and gripped his hand. “I’m no angel. But I’ll be anything you need me to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would write more Destiel if I got more prompts. 
> 
> Also, comments keep me writing in general. Thank you for reading!
> 
> ~Posing


End file.
